


A rose by any other name

by Sumatra



Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Casual Sex, Gen, Mentions of Sex, because I have recently started to love him, like a lot, mostly Peter/Pedro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:09:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumatra/pseuds/Sumatra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter trying to find himself at university - my take on his perspective of current canon</p>
            </blockquote>





	A rose by any other name

Their eyes met across the room and she smiled at him in a way that reminded him of Bea, offering him the empty seat next to her. It felt like friendship, but he noticed that she smelt like lavender and their arms brushed as he settled in with his notes.

“You looked lost,” she said.

“I was.” Peter didn’t want to admit he was a little hungover, on his first day of lectures. It wasn’t too bad, a mild but persistent headache and a little dizziness, but the frustration with himself made it worse.

“I’m Viola.”

“Peter.”

“Peter.” She repeated it slowly. “I like it.”

It was nice, he realised, being somewhere he could begin again, with a completely blank page.  He missed Auckland – football, hanging out with Beatrice, and most of all the relationship he was finally starting to build with John. At the same time, he had been the most eager of all of them to get away. Wellington had a lot of things Auckland didn’t.

“How are you finding the first day?” He winced at how out of practise he sounded – his small talk skills had gotten a little rusty, a side effect of only hanging out with people he’d known his whole life.

“Not bad.” She looked around the room. “A lot of new people. A little overwhelming, coming from a small town where sheep outnumber people quite significantly.”

He laughed. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Oh, it is.” She looked at him dead seriously. “What about you?”

“Auckland born and bred.”

“Ah, a city dweller. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was talking to somebody so sophisticated.”

She scanned the room again. She held herself in a way that he’d once been able to mimic – open shoulders, eyes up and actually _looking_ at things instead of fixing on the ground, and arm hooked over the back of her chair. Half consciously, he felt himself relax and followed her gaze.

The lecture hall was sparsely populated but filling up slowly – despite the hangover, he’d wanted to be early on the first day. Even if he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure he could take much more of the atmosphere in the flat. One week in, it was clear that thinking he could live with Ben andBalth had been a mistake. At least Freddie seemed okay.

“Do you know many people going here?” she asked him.

“Only two. Friends from high school.”

“Will I ever get to meet them?”

“I doubt it.” The words came out a little harsh, and he added, “Trust me, you don’t want to. I’ve had time to get used to them, and I’m still convinced that agreeing to flat with them was a lapse of judgement I will regret for the rest of the year.”

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“Right now, I’m thinking about selling them and using the money to buy new friends.” He paused. He was being unnecessarily harsh, although he had every right to be considering the way that both Ben and Balth had been behaving lately.

Viola didn’t seem to mind. The lecture hall continued to fill up slowly around them, and they continued to chat. He found out she had a twin brother, two cats and had wanted to be a train driver (“when I was _five_ ”) before deciding on Wellington University. He told her about John, leaving out the more complex aspects of their relationship.

“It seems like you really look out for him,” she said.

“He needs it.” Peter couldn’t help worrying about his brother, knowing now what a difficult time he’d been having. What made it worse was wondering if John would be happier this year, now that he no longer had his ‘shadow’ in close proximity. “I hope so, anyway.”

“Sebastian’s the same. All he cares about is his girlfriend – if it wasn’t for me, I really don’t think he would have passed any of his exams this year.”

The lecture began and Peter was pleased to find his headache had eased off enough to concentrate and make notes, even if Viola kept distracting him with whispered running commentary on the professor’s powerpoint (“anyone using comic sans at this point _knows_ what they’re doing…!”).

He had to admit he was genuinely interested by the subject, and his thoughts didn’t drift to Balthazar or any of the flat drama for the duration of the lecture, which he counted as an achievement. It helped that Viola was there, that he was already feeling like he could make new friends and be a new person outside of the ‘all round great guy’ from Messina High.

 

Viola invited him round afterwards – neither of them had anything else to do that day, and she seemed to sense that he didn’t really want to head home.

“My roommate’s out for a few hours, so we can do whatever. Watch a movie, dance around naked…”

They both laughed. It was nice, natural. She lived in dorms and he was impressed at how quickly she and her roommate had personalised the place.

“Want a drink? Something to eat?”

“Coffee’s great, thanks.”

She put the kettle on and sat opposite him, on her bed. “I’m about to be nosy, but you’re in my room so I figure I’ve already technically bared my soul. What’s the deal with you and your friends?”

He spoke to her bedside table. “I don’t know. It’s weird. A lot of stuff happened last year – I did some really stupid stuff.” He paused, wondering how vague he could get away with being. “That’s mostly okay now, although it involved a lot of apologising on my part.”

He left a long enough pause after that that she interjected with, “Come on Peter, it can’t be that bad. When I think about last year…”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. One of the guys – he and I had an _almost_ -thing last year. I thought living together would be fine, since nothing ever happened and we’ve been friends for ages, but…”

“But it’s not,” she finished for him.

“No. It really isn’t.”

She reached out and affectionately bumped him on the shoulder. “I’ve been there. You’ll be fine. Last year I wasted so much time liking this guy who I _knew_ liked someone else. It’s not really the same, but…”

“No, I appreciate you saying that.”

She smiled. “It’s just a shame a guy like you can’t come along and actually be attracted to me.”

“Who says I’m not?” he said, before he could stop himself, and then regretted it immediately.

She looked at him. “You’re bi?”

There was something in her voice that made him hesitate, but he nodded slowly, hoping that she wouldn’t ‘pull a Ben’ and make it weird.

Instead, she said, “This is so weird. Me too!”

“What?”

“Yeah. I briefly dated this girl Olivia last year before she started going out with my brother, which is a whole different level of weird that I’m still a bit confused about. At least it helped me finally come out. I made a promise to myself that I’d start Wellington completely out of the closet, although it’s surprisingly difficult to work your sexuality into everyday conversation. You either have to spring it on people or just hope they eventually notice.”

“I’m going with the latter,” Peter smiled. “I had a similar experience actually, with liking this guy – although up until then I hadn’t even realised I was bi, so it was more about coming out to myself.”

“Been there,” she nodded. “A lot earlier though.” There was a pause, and then she said, with the kind of confidence that had to be real, “Do you wanna make out?”

Peter wasn’t sure how they’d got from “Hey we’re both bisexual” to “Let’s make out” and it took him a second to respond. When he did, it didn’t even really count – he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and stuttered out an “Um…”

“Sorry. Too forward?”

“N-no.”

“I’m as bored of the slutty bisexual trope as anyone, but I’ve only ever kissed one person in my life and I’m really not ready for a relationship right now. I figure we’re both hopeless cases – I’m in love with Orsino and you _clearly_ have a thing for…?”

Peter felt himself go bright red. “Balthazar.”

“Wow. We really go for the guys with weird parents, huh?”

“Right…”

“Anyway, I know I’m being ridiculously forward, but I feel _comfortable_ around you and I just want to… find out what it’s like to be with a guy. Is that weird?”

“Not weird,” said Peter, when he was able to speak. This was possibly the most unromantic way he had ever been propositioned, but maybe that was a good thing.

He wasn’t sure who kissed who first, only that one minute she was looking at him and the next his lips were on hers, and she was kissing him fiercely. It happened so fast he could barely keep track of what he was doing, whose hands were whose. He was vaguely aware that they relocated to the bed at some point, but by that point he had disengaged his brain in an attempt to stop it drifting to Balthazar. It didn’t help much.

Afterwards, they went out for coffee. It was unconventional, which he liked. He knew Balthazar was hopelessly romantic, but he’d probably already had his _perfect_ First Time with Damien ( _stop thinking about it_ ). He didn’t even want to think about what Ben and Bea were doing in their spare time – watching them flirt and act lovey-dovey around each other was bad enough.

“I don’t get why everyone looks down on casual sex so much,” said Viola, loudly, in the middle of a crowded coffee shop. “To be honest it feels good to have got it, well, over with. Don’t you think?”

She laughed at his expression.

“You know what; I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

 

After that, coffee meet-ups became a regular thing. She was the only one who really seemed to understand what he was going through, and was there to listen when he needed to complain about his flatmates, which was most of the time.

“In the fridge? Tell me I’m having a nightmare and will wake up any second.”

“That doesn’t damage the camera?”

“Apparently not. I have no idea why thousands of people want to watch this stuff, but he uploads it to YouTube and actually gets viewers.”

“Doesn’t he need consent for that?”

“I think Ben feels that by agreeing to be friends with him, we’ve _implicitly_ given consent.”

“And where can I watch these?”

He shoved her, she collapsed into giggles.

 

A couple of weeks into term, out of nowhere, she said, “Stephen wants to have sex with you.”

“What?”

There had been one girl since Viola – Lydia, who he’d met doing film club (he was slowly making his way through every available club or society, determined to find himself outside of football and Messina High). She was nice but neither of them really clicked and it had actually been really awkward afterwards – he’d sworn off the whole casual sex thing, even if it did mean spending most of his time obsessing about…

“Stephen. He sat next to you on Friday. The guy with the hat.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, he told Josh and Josh told me that he thinks you’re cute and that means he wants to have sex with you.”

“In what universe?”

“Trust me. I think you should go for it.”

“Shall I recap the Lydia experience for you, or did I go into enough painful detail?”

“That was _one_ bad experience. You’re obviously feeling down and I don’t see anything wrong with experimenting while you’re at uni. It’s not like you’re sleeping around, I just don’t see why you can’t have a bit of fun instead of spending all your time moping. _He’s_ moved on with this Kit guy –”

“Vi –”

“What? I’m sorry but he’s obviously a dick –”

“That’s unfair.”

“Of course it is, but I’m _your_ friend, not his. Anyway, casual sex isn’t just about fun.”

“And you know all this how?”

“I read books. I know people. It’s about human connection and not conforming to societies arbitrary rules and finding yourself and –”

“I get it. You’re still a hypocrite.”

“It’s not my fault that Orsino likes me and I have a boyfriend now.” He could hear the happiness in her voice, which made it hard to stay frustrated. “Which reminds me actually, I have to go skype him. Sorry – it’s a time zone thing.”

She gathered her things back into her back, which she had a habit of getting out at random points in the conversation – wanting to show him an extract from a book she liked, a weird pebble she found outside the lecture hall…

As she was getting up, he heard himself saying, “This Stephen guy… Maybe, could you, give me his number?”

Viola grinned.

 

“Again?”

“At least close the door…”

Peter ignored Ben and Freddie, and set about making eggs for himself and Brian. He didn’t owe them an explanation for his personal life, and he wasn’t going to give them one.

“Where’s Stanley?” he heard Freddie say, not bothering to lower her voice. Then again, unless Ben or Balth had told her, she didn’t know the history.

“Out with Kit, I think.”

“They have been hanging out an awful lot lately. I’m beginning to wonder if we’re ever going to meet him.”

“You know Stanley. Mysterious, secretive. They’ll probably be engaged before we see the guy’s face.”

Peter flipped the omelette a little more violently than necessary.

“Yes, but as his flatmates, don’t you think we deserve to be overly involved in his love life?”

“Naturally, but what can I do? It’s his life.”

The hypocrisy of this was apparently only obvious to Peter.

“I guess…” Freddie’s voice faded a bit, and Peter put the microwave on which drowned them out further. Slowly, he relaxed.

It wasn’t as though he hated them, or was even angry exactly. He was more… frustrated. Not only at Ben and Freddie, who were misguided (understatement) and misinformed respectively. After all, this entire situation was Balthazar’s fault – he was the one who’d run back to his ex, he was the one who’d insisted this whole flat share thing would be fine, he was the one posting passive aggressive songs on YouTube and expecting Peter to do all the work. Maybe it was unfair but Peter was fed up with being expected to be the ‘people-person’, the confident one, the leader. Not only did he end up with all the responsibility, he’d somehow ended up with all the blame.

He brought the eggs back through, ignoring the sudden silence and the feeling (he refused to look and check) that he was being watched. He made a point of closing his bedroom door.

 

“Tom. I like it. Short. To the point.”

“It’s a name.”

“Ah yes. ‘ _A rose by any other name would smell as sweet_.’ ”

“Stop quoting obscure literature at me.”

“What is the point of my degree, if not to quote obscure literature?”

This time, they were in the library, hidden in the drama section; away from anyone doing any serious studying, and therefore safe to talk in peace.

“Tell me about this Tom, then.”

Peter thought for a second, trying to conjure up an image of the guy he’d been seeing for the past few weeks. “He’s sporty, which is nice – we have stuff in common. Good-looking, obviously doesn’t hurt. We actually met after you abandoned me on one of our coffee-dates, which is becoming an increasingly regular occurrence.”

“Sorry. Love is patient, but not that patient.”

“Why not schedule meeting up, I don’t know, when Orsino is busy?”

“Because that would require thinking ahead, which you should know by now I am hopeless at.”

“I do, but a boy can dream.”

“Stop changing the subject! Tom – could he be the one?”

“I don’t know…” The correct answer was no, but considering he was technically still involved with the guy, he wasn’t quite ready to admit that out loud. “He’s nice but I don’t exactly think about him all the time.”

“There’s no passion.”

“Right.”

“Worry not, my friend. You will find someone eventually. I have confidence that you will be one of the many who force themselves into permanent and binding monogamy.” This was her way of referring to marriage. “You may even,” she shuddered, “have kids.”

“I don’t know what you have against children.”

“I don’t know what you like about them.”

“I think I’m going to break it off with Tom,” he said, after a pause. “I’m still not ready for a serious relationship.”

“You will be when you meet the right person,” she reassured him. “Until then, no pressure, right?”

 

“Have you thought about Balthazar even once in all of this?”

Peter felt his whole body tense up. “Fuck off Ben.”

“No, I’m your friend and –”

“For the last time, this is none of your business.”

He slammed his bedroom door for effect, but he had to admit it was satisfying to have the last word.

 

For a brief moment, he thought Emily was different. She liked foreign films and bad puns, and she cooked _him_ breakfast in the morning, which made for a nice change. She also used up the ingredients in the fridge, which gave Ben an excuse to be even worse than usual, but that was a small issue and by this point he was used to it.

Viola got very excited when he told her he was thinking about asking Emily on a proper date.

“Your first since Brian!” She was practically bouncing up and down.

“I still haven’t met Orsino,” he said, changing the subject before she became too enthusiastic. “I already have too many friends who are secretive about their love lives, I don’t need another.”

She surprised him by saying, “I’m sure he’d love to meet you. How about next Saturday? He’s coming down for the weekend and we could all go out for a meal or something. You could bring Emily and we could pretend to be straight people.”

“Ha ha.” He thought of Balthazar. He’d developed an irritating habit of doing this, involuntarily and often.

“Comedy genius, right?”

“You really do remind me of Bea.”

She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“Can we talk?”

Peter wondered if it would be rude to tell Ben no. He decided against it and made space for him at the table.

“I’m sorry.” Ben was looking at the ground and Peter almost didn’t hear him.

“What for?” He couldn’t help the clipped tone. It felt harsh, even if Ben entirely deserved it.

“Everything. Being a complete and total dick, arse, twat, wanker –”

“Okay, you can stop.” There was a tense silence. “Look, you’re gonna need to be more specific than that.”

Ben looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for saying what I said to you. I know that you’re going through a rough time and I didn’t want to make you feel like I was judging you or…”

“Keep talking.”

“I know it’s not about being bisexual – or it is, but it’s about more than that. To be honest, though I have no idea what – but that’s not you. I’ve been a shitty friend and you haven’t been able to talk to me and… I’m sorry.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh. “I don’t know, Ben.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m just saying that I’m going to try harder, from now.”

Peter surprised himself by nodding. “Okay. I forgive you.” He hadn’t enjoyed being angry at Ben, even when he thoroughly earned that anger. Ben had forgiven him for the previous year and he wasn’t about to forget that, either.

“Seriously, you don’t have to.”

“I know that.” They held eye contact for longer than either of them was really comfortable with it, but Ben was afraid to break it and Peter refused to. “But you need to start listening to me.”

“I know.”

“And stay the fuck out of my private life. It’s my life.”

“Yep.”

“And stop filming me without my permission.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“No really, there are probably all kinds of legal loopholes I could exploit if I wanted to.”

“Maybe I should get you guys to sign something…”

Peter glared at him, but it wasn’t the same as it would’ve been even five minutes ago. The two of them sighed simultaneously.

“Maybe living together was a really terrible idea,” said Ben.

“It wasn’t. I couldn’t have afforded anything else, anyway, so…”

“I’m really sorry though.”

“You can stop.”

“But I am.”

“I know.”

“Really sorry.”

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

 

He broke things off with Emily. Two weeks later, he found himself having the same conversation with Simon, and then with James and then… it just hit him. Hard.

He was in love with Balthazar.

He’d known that. He’d known that for over a year now, sometimes consciously, sometimes in the back of his mind, he’d known.

He’d pushed it away, pushed it away when he was sure it wasn’t reciprocated – or if it was, Balthazar would never act on it and so it wasn’t worth feeling it.

It had been there when he realised he was bisexual, even though he’d always known, it had taken Balthazar for him to articulate it, and Balthazar who’d been the only one he trusted enough to tell.

It had been there through all the problems with John, the slap-in-the-face realisation that his younger brother actually _hated_ him, and the effort he’d put in to rebuild their relationship.

It had been there when he’d left to talk to Bea, to fix old wounds and begin the healing process, which was ongoing and still occasionally painful.

It had been there through exams, as he sat at his desk revising harder than his friends realised, more scared than they realised – because he was Pedro, all round great guy, he could pass a few exams no problem. He hated that they had no idea how hard he worked, that it didn’t come easy to him, and that every time he expressed any fear or doubt it was brushed off.

It had been there then, and it was here now, and he couldn’t change it no matter how much he wanted to.

He couldn’t change the fact that Balthazar had hurt him; broken his heart, even. He couldn’t change how hard it had been to watch him walk away and want to scream, because he was just one person – how had he ended up with this reputation? Why did everyone expect him to be everything at once, a good brother and a good student, but a good boyfriend as well?

He couldn’t change the fact that he’d only really started to feel like a human being in the last few months, with the men and women who weren’t his friends and he wasn’t in love with, but who he respected and who respected him.

Pedro was perfect. All round great guy, star of Messina High.

Peter wasn’t. But he was human, and that was better.


End file.
